


27 Tuxes

by Auddieliz09



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 27 dresses au, M/M, Morey Appreciation Week 2k20
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22481998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auddieliz09/pseuds/Auddieliz09
Summary: Mason loves weddings. He's always put the needs of others before his own, making him the go-to guy whenever someone needs help with wedding plans. So when Mason's step-brother snags the man of Mason's dreams, Mason finds himself questioning his role as a wedding junkie for the first time in his life. Meanwhile, a cynical wedding reporter, Corey, sees Masons's unusual story as his ticket out of the commitments section.
Relationships: Brett Talbot/Jackson Whittemore, Corey Bryant & Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt, Liam Dunbar & Mason Hewitt, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 45
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snaeken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snaeken/gifts).



> For Callum. Sorry it's taken so long. <3

Mason was nine the first time he attended a wedding. He watched as his mother married a man who treated her like a queen and realized that he wanted that for himself one day. Not just the love of his life, but the ceremony and the reception. The flowers and the fine clothes and the happiness that can be seen in the eyes of the man standing at the end of the aisle. When he went through puberty a few years later, he realized that the “man” part of that equation wasn’t going to change.

He’d gotten a step-brother out of the deal. Despite their different upbringings and difficult start, he and Jackson became friends. They saw how much their parents loved each other and faked being loving step-brothers so much that one day they realized they really did love each other in their own ways. 

As the years went on, he planned and re-planned his wedding and when his friends started getting engaged, he started helping his friends with their weddings as well. Always happy to help his friends on their special day and waiting patiently for his own prince charming to sweep him off his feet and give him the wedding he's always dreamed of followed by a love and marriage as wonderful as his own parents'.

☙❧


	2. Chapter 2

Mason paces outside the venue to his friend, Kira’s, wedding. His best friend, Liam, is also a groomsman at the event and as usual, he’s late. When the man finally strolls around the corner, Mason gives him a critical once over. He’s… mostly presentable.

“You couldn’t shave?”

“What? Ben has a beard, but I can’t?”

“That’s not a beard, Liam. That’s four day’s worth of growth you’ve been too lazy to do anything with.” Liam rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, I brought a trimmer and a razor. If you don’t want to shave we can at least clean you up. And for heaven’s sake, I taught you to tie a tie when we were sixteen.”

Liam looks down but obviously can’t see the horrendous excuse for a knot he’d tied. “Uh-huh and I tied it, didn’t I?”

“Sure, buddy. If that’s what you want to call it.” Mason shakes his head fondly at his walking disaster of a best friend before handing him a small bag. “I’ll fix that, too. Let’s get inside.”

“What did you bring me?” Liam digs through the bag and follows Mason toward the door. 

“Tylenol, Visine, an extra pin for your bouton--your flower thingy, a phone charger, and some condoms and lube packets.”

“You’re an angel, Mase.” 

“I know.”

“What’s with the rest of the stuff?” Liam gestures toward the garment bag in Mason’s arms.

Mason just shakes his head and pulls Liam inside.

*

The ceremony is lovely. The bride is radiant, the groom looks like the happiest bastard on the planet, and Mason checks his watch as subtly as possible since it started ten minutes behind schedule.

As soon as the happy couple said “I do” and the wedding party had taken their pictures, Mason books it to the street with his garment bag. He hails a cab, shoving his stuff in the back seat and then himself. He leans through the privacy glass and tells the cabbie, “I’ve got two-hundred bucks for you to drive me all night, okay? Don’t ask questions, just drive.”

“Yeah, man, I got it.” The guy starts driving.

Mason shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie enough to unbutton the first four buttons of his shirt. He pulls the whole thing over his head and starts on his belt buckle, kicking off his shoes.

“Woah! Hey! What are-” The cabbie starts.

“What did I say about questions? You’re getting paid to drive and that’s it.”

“Right. Right. Sorry.”

Mason struggles out of the suit as fast as possible and into the tux from his garment bag. He’s straightening out his bowtie as the cab pulls in front of the venue for his friend Garrett’s wedding. He slips into his shoes and hustles out the door. 

He tells the cabbie, “This will take about an hour! Go get some coffee or something,” he points at the diner across the street, “but be ready for when I come back out!” 

Inside, Mason helps Garrett fix his own bow tie. He assures Sean that Garrett is still in the building and is still fully prepared to meet him at the altar. He finds the ring bearer napping behind a sofa in Groom One’s prep room. 

During the ceremony, Mason tries his best to not fidget as he stands behind Garrett while Sean’s brother officiates. The atmosphere is light-hearted and fun until the grooms get to their vows and it’s all Mason can do to not sob in happiness for his friends. That doesn’t stop a few tears from leaking out, but he’s not alone.

He waits impatiently while he stands through photo after photo and as soon as everyone starts heading upstairs for the reception, Mason slips out the door. 

The cabbie is reading the paper, leaning against the cab.

“What are you doing? Get behind the wheel!”

He climbs into the back of the car and immediately starts stripping.

*

Mason makes it back inside the reception hall for Kira just in time for the best man speech. Ben’s best friend is really cute and really married to his own very pregnant wife. 

Mason’s nibbling on a dinner roll when Liam plops beside him.

“Hey, Mase. Do you think I should go for the blonde bridesmaid or the freckled twink I stood next to? I’m thinking Freckles since you put lube in my goody bag.”

Mason rolls his eyes. “How about keeping it in your pants for one wedding?”

“Please. You know the only reason I agree to wear these monkey suits is so someone can rip it off me at the end of the night.”

“Well, then, I guess go where the booze takes you.” He checks his watch. _Shit._ “I’m going to the restroom. Stay safe.”

*

He makes it to Garrett’s wedding in time for the mother-son dances. Super sweet. He develops a small crush on Sean’s brother in the ten-minute conversation they had about wedding venues and decorations and cake flavors. Now, that’s a guy who gets it.

*

He makes it back to Kira in time for the cake cutting.

*

Garret for the cha cha slide.

*

Kira for the cupid shuffle.

*

Garrett for the Dollar Dance.

*

Kira for the bouquet toss. As a guy, he should probably wait for the garter toss, but first of all, he has zero interest in Kira’s garters and second of all, he’s waiting for a man, so bouquet it is.

He stands with a group of about twelve women and one man who’s date looks like he’s praying for the bouquet to veer as left and away from the guy as possible. Ouch. The bride makes a little speech about all the help she’d gotten from her wedding party and Mason even got a special thank you for dealing with her during almost every crisis. (Honestly, Mason lives for it.)

“Ready?” Kira asks. When everyone assembled cheers she turns and tosses the bouquet over her shoulder. 

Mason thinks for sure that it’s coming straight for him, but as he’s reaching out to catch it, the girl beside him pushes him out of the way. His head hits the ground hard.

When he comes to, he’s surrounded by half-drunk bridesmaids and looking up into a pair of pretty brown eyes set into a very handsome face. A couple of the bridesmaids keep asking if he’s okay.

Mason tries to sit up and brings a hand to his dizzy head.

“Woah,” Brown Eyes says, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move around too much. This is serious.” He looks up at the three bridesmaids. “You get me some ice. You, get a bottle of 100 proof, and you get him something to bite on. Stat!”

The tipsy women scatter and the man helps Mason sit up. “Alright. He’s fine folks. It’s all good.”

“Are you a doctor?” Mason asks him.

“Nah, but they were annoying the shit out of me, so I had to give them something to do.” He smirks. “You know your name?”

“Mason.”

“Mason. Nice to meet you. I’m Corey.” He holds out his hand.

Mason shakes it. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Sure, no problem.” Corey helps Mason stand. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Mason goes to take a step and loses his balance. Luckily, Corey was there to keep him steady.

“Probably best if we get you a cab. Let’s take it slow, okay. This way.”

Mason puts a hand to his head and allows Corey to guide him toward the exit.

“That’s my cab,” Mason mumbles, stumbling toward the car he’s been riding in all night. Corey guides him into the back seat, then hustles around to join him through the other door. 

“Hi,” Corey tells the cabbie, “Looks like Mason here is going home this time around.”

Mason rattles off the address for his apartment building.

They sit silently in the back seat for several moments before Corey leans over the garment bag between them. “Those are some cute briefs you’ve got on, by the way.” Mason’s eyes bugged out of his head, but before he could ask what the hell he meant, Corey continues, “You hustled passed me and I saw you changing suits as you drove off. You were at two weddings in one night, weren’t you? Little upsetting don’t you think?”

“They are both really good friends of mine. I couldn’t just say no to one of them just because they decided to get married on the same day.” Mason defends himself, even though he feels like he shouldn’t have to against a perfect stranger.

“That’s not what I think is upsetting. How could you stand it? Isn’t one wedding bad enough?”

“I love weddings. I always have.”

“Really?? Which part? Bad food, horrible music, or forced merriment?”

“Getting to meet such wonderful people like yourself, actually. Totally makes my night.”

“Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is slowly losing your mind.” Corey recites as if he’s discovered the secret of the word.

_Is this guy serious?_ “What is it you do, exactly?”

“Oh, I’m a writer.”

“Right.” _Note to self, never read anything this cynical d-bag writes. Ever._

Corey chuckles at Mason as if he can read his mind.

When they pull up in front of Mason’s building, Corey offers to pay for the ride.

“No, I’ve got it.” Mason insists, digging in his pocket. He pulls out two hundred dollar bills and hands them to the cabbie. “Thank you kindly for your services this evening, Mr. Greenberg,” he says, glancing at the man’s cab license.

“Not a problem. Happy to help.”

As Mason pays, Corey grabs up his garment bag and slides out of his side. “Hey! What’re-” He points at Greenberg. “He’s going to be right back and he’ll be paying you whatever the fare is from here to wherever he’s going.

Mason grabs up the shoes from the floorboard and his satchel from the seat before springing out and around the car to stop Corey.

Corey looks at him. “Don’t you think it’s a lot of ritual for something that, if we’re being honest, only has a 50/50 shot of working out? Sometimes you can even tell the odds aren’t _that_ good.”

“What?” Mason feigns surprise. “A man who doesn’t believe in marriage?” He shoves the shoes into the garment bag and tries to tug it out of Corey’s arms.

The other man holds tight. “I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy of the spectacle.”

“How noble. Do you also tell kids that Santa isn’t real? Because someone needs to pull that curtain down.” He tries again to get his stuff.

Corey steps back. “Ha! So you admit that believing in marriage is kind of like believing in Santa.”

“No! That’s-” Corey gives him a cynical look. Mason huffs. “Marriage, like everything good and important isn’t easy. Cynicism is, though.” He gives Corey a pointed look and snatches his bag of clothes.

Corey lets him have them. Mason holds out his hand. “Very interesting meeting you.”

“Bye.” Corey shakes his hand.

Mason marches off.

“Gonna be in more weddings next weekend?” Corey hollers at him.

Mason just shakes his head and keeps walking.

“How many have you been in by the way? Ballpark figure?”

“Goodnight!” Mason hustles up his stoop and through the door of his building.

Well, now Mason knows what kind of writer Corey is. Reporter or journalist. So damn nosy. It’s absolutely none of his business how many weddings Mason has been a part of.

Inside his apartment, he changes into a soft pair of sweats and an old college shirt. He brushes off his suits from the evening and hangs them on special hangers designed to also hold the shoes. The large closet he stuffs them into is almost overflowing with suits from all of the weddings he’s been in in the last decade. 

He presses his boutonnieres in a scrapbook with twenty-four others and sets it on the shelf above the suits in the closet and sighs happily. Despite that Corey guy and the stress from going back and forth all night, he’d had a wonderful time. And he’s genuinely happy for his friends that had started the rest of their lives with the partners they adored. He truly wished them all the happiness.

He’s dead tired after expending so much energy, so he wanders into his room and climbs into his bed. 

☙❧

Corey watches Mason disappear through the door of his building before climbing back into the cab. He gives the guy his address and sits back thinking about the cute guy who loves weddings. He’ll admit to himself that it had been fun to argue with the guy.

He looks down and sees a leather-bound planner in the floorboard. He assumes it belongs to Mason. He’s about to ask the driver to turn around so he can return it, but his curiosity gets the better of him. The thing is bursting at the seams and he has to know what’s in it. Maybe he’ll get a little insight about what Mason was doing at two weddings tonight.

Inside is one of those pens that has for different colors you can click into place to write with. From what Corey can understand, work stuff is in blue, personal stuff is in black, doodles are in green, and wedding things are in red. Most of the writing is in blue or… red. So much red.

Wine tastings, cake tastings, suit fittings, _dress_ fittings, florist visits. Nine Saturdays and three Sundays have ‘[Name] Wedding!’ written in them with times just up to today’s date alone. Mason has written ‘Groomsman!’ or ‘Best Man!’ beside eight of them. He’s been in eight weddings this year. Eight. Weddings. And it’s only June!

_Is this guy serious?_ Corey knows he’s going to have to return the planner to Mason because it looks like his entire life is written in it, but first, he needs to wrap his mind around what he’s looking at. Call him crazy, but this planner looks like a story that needs to be heard. And who better to write it than him?

☙❧

The next morning, Mason stumbles out of bed and toward his coffee maker. Once the aroma of the life-giving beverage makes its way through the cobwebs of his brain with the promise of energy to get through the morning, he ambles back through his room to take a shower in his ensuite bathroom. 

When the shower is finished and he's dressed in some comfy sweats and a soft t-shirt, he pads back to the kitchen for his coffee. As he pours himself a cup, he hears the telltale slap of a newspaper hitting the welcome mat in front of his apartment door. He takes his first sip and smiles. The best part of his Sunday has arrived.

He wanders into the living room, sets his mug down on a coaster on the coffee table, then opens the front door, grabbing up the newspaper before shutting and relocking it. He sits on the couch, unfolds the paper, digging through world news and sports before finding the section he's looking for. Commitments. 

Right in front is a new wedding article by his favorite journalist, Michael Bryant. His articles are the best. Sometimes they're so good, Mason even cries. He lays across his couch and settles in to read this latest piece.

A Carnival of a Lifetime by Michael Bryant. A beautiful story of a couple who made the most of their wedding that they had scheduled at a park across from the fairgrounds where the county fair was being held that week. The couple said their vows and headed over to the carnival to celebrate their union. Bryant’s words never failed to pull at Mason’s heartstrings and this article was no different. 

When he finished with the rest of the wedding announcements, he cuts out Bryant’s story and put it in a folder with the others. He loves to reread them sometimes after a stressful day. 

The rest of the day he cleans his apartment and sets his guest bedroom up for his step brother’s visit. Jackson had messaged him from Milan four days ago and informed him that he’d be visiting for a couple of weeks. Such a typical Jackson move to give such short notice. Despite his step-brother’s spoiled, carefree attitude, Mason loves him as if he were his real older brother.

That being said, he is glad he’ll only be down for about two weeks.

☙❧


	3. Chapter 3

Monday morning, Corey walks into the main building for the Beacon Hills Bulletin, the city’s largest newspaper. He meets up with his friend and coworker, Theo, who asks him if he saw the latest baseball game on Saturday.

“Of course I didn’t, I work on Saturday nights.” Corey levels him with a heatless glare.

“Riiight.” Theo chuckles. “You were eating stale fondant and doing the electric slide. How’d it go?”

“Oh, you know. 'The bride wore a gown that sparkled like the groom’s eyes as he saw her approaching through a shower of rose petals.'” Corey turns to walk to his desk.

“And you’re  _ not  _ getting laid?” Theo asks incredulously as he follows. “Commitments is the golden standard of wedding announcements. Every girl on the planet rips open that page first thing Sunday morning. Brides kill to get in there. Do you have any idea what you could be doing?”

“Are you forgetting that I’m gay and don’t give a shit about the brides?”

“Right. But there have  _ got _ to be some grooms who are giving up dick to be with one woman for the rest of their lives. Presumably. They won’t call you or bother you. They’ll pretend they never met you. You can’t beat that. Also, drunk groomsmen, Corey. Drunk. Groomsmen.”

“You’re a fucking degenerate, Raeken. A walking, talking bisexual disaster.”

“Thank you.”

Corey snorts. “You really assume all men are as depraved as you?”

“If only,” Theo sighs.

“Whatever,” Corey rolls his eyes, “It’s not going to matter for very much longer because this-” He pulls out Mason’s planner. “-is going to get me out of the land of fairy lights and baby’s breath.”

“Whatever you say, my friend.”

“Go away.”

“Yessir.” Theo gives a sarcastic salute and wanders over to his own desk.

☙❧

On the other side of town, outside of the headquarters for Ito Outdoors Inc., Mason watches a cab deposit Liam onto the sidewalk. He’s wearing almost exactly what Mason last saw him in, minus the suit jacket, but he’s got a pair of suspenders over his shoulders he’s never seen before. Their charcoal color brings out the grey accents in his wedding tie.

Mason must be making a dubious expression because Liam says, “What? I only wore the suit for like three hours. It’s still basically clean. If you think I wore it at any time over the weekend, you’re mistaken.”

“Two day Walk of Shame outfit. Nice.” Mason chuckles fondly.

“No shame in my game. Freckles was still smiling when I left.” Liam precedes him through the door.   
  


As they walk down the corridor towards their offices, Liam asks Mason, “Where were you the other night? You were barely there and then you disappeared. Ooh! Did you meet someone?”

“Oh, please. Of course not.”

“Yeah, dumb question. What was I thinking?”

Mason scoffs. 

They walk up to the front desk where the receptionist, Tracy, is painting her nails a bright venom green. 

“Hey, Trace,” Mason greets her. “Have you seen my planner anywhere?”

“Um… no.”

“Damn. I thought I took it home, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Maybe I left it in my office.” He starts to walk off then turns back to the girl. “Did you get the article photos for Brett? He wants to see them right away.”

“No.”

“Um, alright. No big. I’ll get them from marketing.”

He and Liam walk off.

“That’s right. Show her who’s boss, Mase.” He makes a sound like cracking a whip.

“Dude, I’m not her boss.”

“You’re her boss’s assistant. That gives you power. What’s the point if you don’t use it?”

“Liam, go to accounting.”

“Oh, now you’re bossy. I kinda like it.” Liam grins at him.

Mason just sighs and points toward Liam’s work area.

Liam snickers and walks off.

Mason smiles at his friend’s antics and walks into his office. He looks sits at his desk and starts searching for his planner. It’s in none of the drawers or cubbies. Not in between any folders or under any loose papers. His entire life is mapped out on that thing. Where could he have left it?

☙❧

Corey plops Mason’s planner on his bosses desk. “That’s a great idea for the front page of the section.”

Lydia swivels in her chair to look up at him. “Seriously, Bryant? How many times are you going to say that to me?”

“Yeah but this time, this time I know I’ve got something really great.”

“Really?” Lydia looks at him skeptically. “Like the one about prices at wedding cake bakeries?”

“Look, they’re ripping people off and you know it!”

“Yes, I do. But no one cares, Corey.”

“What about the piece on the lace factory workers? Their work conditions are horrifying and they are severely underpaid. That piece was phenomenal.”

“I concede your talent, but do you really think that’s what people want to read in the Style section? Think again.” Lydia watches Corey pace in front of her desk. “Corey, this section basically pays for the entire paper. Advertisers want fun, upbeat human-interest stories to coincide with their products.”

“So, it’s all about making money now?”

“It’s a material world, Bryant. Get out.”

“Ugh. Okay, I get it. That story wouldn’t have worked. But I guarantee this one will.” Corey leans over and opens the planner to show her. “This guy has been in eight weddings.”

“So?”

“This year. Two of them were on Saturday alone. He’s been _ to _ twelve so far this year.”

Lydia looks mildly interested. Corey takes it as a win.

“It won’t just be about him, though. It’ll also be about how the wedding industry has turned a beautiful rite of passage into a capitalist's wet dream.” Lydia gives him a look. “I-in a fun, upbeat way, of course.” He leans against her desk. “Please, Lydia. I am dying in Commitments. One more sentence about tulle and I’ll throw myself to a pack of rabid wolves. This is a real story and I want to do it. Please.”

“You’re amazing at covering weddings. That’s where I need you.”

“Believe me when I say that if I don’t get to start writing feature stories, then I’ll quit.”

Lydia sighs at him. “Fine. One chance. One. If I don’t like it, you go back to Commitments for the rest of your life.”

“Deal.”

☙❧

Mason is pouring over the photos he’d gotten from marketing. He’s not sure how much his boss will like them. He turns to Liam, who’s taking his fourth coffee break of the morning. “Do you think he’ll like them?”

“Absolutely. Brett will love them so much he’ll take you into his office, bend you over his desk, and make sweet, sweet love to you.”

“Sshhh! Liam, oh my god!” Mason slaps his arm.

“Please tell me that ridiculous crush is why you work so freaking hard, ‘cause it’s depressing.”

“I like my job. It brings me joy.”

“No, no. You are waiting for the day that Brett wakes up and realizes he’s madly in love with you and makes a huge gesture of love-”

“Mason Hewitt?” A man walks up to them with a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” Mason takes the flowers. “Thank you.”

“The hell? I spend two days in bed with a dude, and  _ you  _ get flowers?” Liam pouts.

Mason inspects the blooms. “There’s no note.”

“Oh, Mase. You don’t really think they’re from Brett, do you?”

Mason picks them up and takes them to his desk. “Please stop saying that. No one knows.”

“Dude, everyone but Brett knows.”

“Truth,” Tracy looks up from her manicure to shot Mason a look as he walks past.

Mason sighs, placing the flowers on his desk before returning to the media room to wait with the catalog photos. He hears an excited bark before he’s jumped on by something large and furry. 

“Balto!” Mason hugs the wolfdog. “Hey, buddy!”

Behind the dog struts in the tall and beautiful Brett Talbot, General Manager of Ito Outdoors Inc. and first in line to take the mantel from his godmother, Satomi Ito, when she decides to retire.

Mason has been in love with him since he’d become his executive assistant six years ago.

“Balto, settle,” Brett grins at his furry companion when the wolfdog leaves the room, presumably to plop down on his bed in the corner of Brett’s office. “How’s everyone doing?”

“We’ve been getting on great!” Mason answers. Liam gives him a look that says he was too enthusiastic. “Got the catalog pics you wanted to see.” 

“Alright, let’s have a look,” Brett examines the photos. “Much better than the last ones. Less... catalog-y. Our items are meant to be utilized, and not just for posing in front of mountains. I’m glad we could get this re-done, Mason. Thank you. It’s why I keep you around.”

Mason just smiles at him.

They start walking toward Brett’s office and Mason runs down his phone calls and scheduled meetings. When Mason confirms that Brett would have to only make a small speech at a charity fundraising gala he’s been invited to, Brett agrees to go. “I’ll probably need a date for that, huh?”

“Um. Yeah, probably,” Mason says, staring up at him in his office doorway.

“Well, at least that’s one part of my life I don’t need your help with.” 

Mason chuckles half-heartedly. “True.”

He turns to his own office and passes Liam. The look of his face must be as miserable as he feels because he can hear his friend mumble, “Christ, Mason.”

Brett pops his head out of his office. “Hey, Mason? Did you leave the Starbucks on my desk?”

“Thought you’d want a caffeine injection,” Mason shrugs.

Brett grins. “That’s why I love you.” He disappears into his office again.

“I love you, too,” Mason says wistfully.

Liam promptly slaps him across the face.

“Shit! Yeah, okay. I needed that. Thanks, I guess. Maybe not so hard next time.” Mason rubs his cheek.

Liam smiles grimly and walks out.

☙❧


	4. Chapter 4

The end of the day rolls around and Tracy hollers at everyone telling them she’ll see them at her engagement party later.

When Liam asks Mason if he wants to pregame at his place, Mason declines.

“I gotta pick up Jackson from the airport.”

“Man, if only there were an app where one could say they needed a ride and a person who has a car would come to pick one up...” Liam says sarcastically.

“I wanna pick him up. I haven’t seen him in months.”

“Yeah, and I thought that was a good thing.”

“Mason rolls his eyes. He’s not that bad.”

“Whatever, man. Afroman said it best:  _ That pretty face don’t match that nasty attitude.” _

Mason snorts. “Go home, Liam.”

☙❧

Mason follows Jackson into his apartment talking about how his Russian model girlfriend had wanted to come to California with him, but he needed space. He stops in the living room and looks around.

“This apartment is so  _ small _ and cozy looking. Quaint.” 

Mason ignores Jackson being Jackson and parks his ridiculous amount of luggage in front of the couch.

Jackson wanders over to his photo of their parent’s wedding day. “You know, dad was my age when he met my mother. They had this fiery romance that resulted in them running off to Vegas to get hitched. The fire burned itself out early and they had me to try and make something of the ashes I guess. She left us when I was seven. I just got home from school one day and she was gone with half our stuff.” Mason stands behind him to give as much silent comfort as he can. “Lots of women came through after the first year. Almost never the same one twice. Just dates for different functions. Never any who meant anything. 

“Then he brings home this lady who is nothing like the others. She was wearing _ jeans _ for Christ’s sake. And she was really nice and actually talked to me like I was a person and I didn’t trust her one bit.” He huffs out a laugh. “And then she brought you along…”

“Oh, yeah. That was a fun day.” Mason remembers the day he’d met Jackson. A spoiled, rich white boy whose father was trying to take his mom away. “But damn if they didn’t look so ecstatic to see their spawn together in the same setting.”

Jackson snorts. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t trust dad, either,” Mason says fondly, picking up the photo. “One day, mom brought home this polished white dude into our tiny little rent house. He offered to buy me ice cream. I might've been a kid, but I knew a bribe when I heard one. I’m really happy they found each other.”

“Me too.”

“Speaking of people who found each other, one of my co-workers is having their engagement party tonight. Wanna come?”

“I’d love to hang out with you and your little work friends, but I’m having drinks with some friends from Milan, so I’ll have to pass. But maybe I’ll drop by after.”

“Well, thanks.” Mason is neither surprised nor expectant. 

☙❧

Mason stands with Liam, sipping on his rum and Coke when he spots Brett coming toward them through the crown. He stops to congratulate Tracy and thank her for the invite. 

When he finally makes his way over, he glances toward the gift table where Tracy’s fiance is collecting packages from the guests. Mason tells him, “You got them hers and hers champagne glasses and a gift certificate to the swankiest spa in Beacon Hills.”

“Great. Think she’ll actually think its from me?”

“I wrapped it like a four-year-old, so maybe.”

“Nice! I’m headed to the bar, need anything? Liquid courage? Hair of the Dog for you, Liam?”

Liam fakes a laugh to his face.

Mason rolls his eyes at his friend. “No, we’re good.” He holds up his drink. “Thanks, though.”

Brett grins and leaves them to get a beer.

Liam turns to Mason. "Have I taught you nothing? If a dude offers you a drink, you say: 'Rum and Coke, please.' If you've already got a drink, you down it and take his offer. Boom. Drunken inter-office sex where he realized he'll never find a better lay and proposes on the spot."

"When has that ever worked for you?"

"My chances are better than yours, aren't they? At least I  _ try." _

“I’d hate for Brett to think I’m irresponsible.”

“Because dudes love responsibilities so much.”

“Excuse you, he appreciates me for who I am.”

“Yes, but what’s the point of being appreciated if no one is naked?”

Mason is about to retort when Brett comes up to them once again. “Hey, Mason. Did you get the thing I left on your desk? Was that okay?”

Mason thinks of the bouquet. “Oh, yes! It was fine. Great, actually!”

“Right. Good. I know our relationship isn’t really like that, so I just wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep or anything.”

Mason is at a loss for words. Someone gets Brett’s attention and he ducks away.

“Oh, my god. Brett sent me flowers. Oh, my god.”

Even Liam looks flabbergasted. “Okay, this is really happening. You get your ass over there and tell him how you feel. Now!”

“Right! Okay!”

As Mason walks toward Brett, he sees Brett’s attention caught by something across the room. Mason tracks his gaze and sees Jackson in fitted grey slacks and a dress shirt in a pale yellow that Mason is sure brings out the green in his eyes, even in the dimness of the club.  _ What the hell? What the fuck? No no no…  _

Mason keeps walking forward, even as Brett starts walking toward Jackson. They all come to a stop; Brett never taking his eyes off Jackson.

Jackson looks over to Mason expectantly. “Mase?”

“Oh! Right. Brett, this is my stepbrother, Jackson. Jackson, meet my Brett. Boss! My boss, Brett.”

“Mason is my assistant. Kinda like my right hand.”

“Lucky him.” Mason can’t tell if that was innuendo.

“Right. And as if I don’t take enough advantage of him, I left my dry cleaning slip on his desk this morning.”

“Dry cleaning slip.” It dawns on Mason that that was what Brett had been talking about. Fuck.

“It was an emergency, but still.”

“No excuses for wrinkles or stains,” Jackson placates. “I get it.”

Mason stands there and watches his hopes and dreams pop like bubbles as the man he loves asks his perfect, spoiled step brother if he’d like a drink. Unlike Mason earlier, Jackson immediately accepts.

Mason is trying to figure out if he wants to scream or cry when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Cynical Corey from the cab.

“Hi. How are ya?” The other man smiles at him. “Were the flowers too much?”

“The flowers were from you?” Mason asks incredulously.

“Yep.”

“You. The marriage-hater.” Corey’s smile starts to look confused. “That’s such great news. Freaking great. Hey, Cor, hold this for me for a sec.” He hands Corey his drink and walks toward the back exit.

He’s officially decided on screaming. As soon as he’s outside, he lets out, “MOTHERFUCKER!!!” He’s about to pull a Liam and punch the wall when he spots Tracy and Hayden staring at him eyes wide, arms tangled. Mason clears his throat. He’s clearly interrupted a makeout break. “So sorry, ladies. Please, carry on.”

He straightens his collar and goes back inside.

He walks calmly back toward Corey, taking back his drink. “Thank you. You were saying?”

“I was asking if you got my flowers. Oh, and I’ve got something for you.” He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out Mason’s planner.

“Oh, thank god! I can live without it, but I really prefer not to.”

“Yeah, you left it in the cab. It was either the engagement party tonight or yoga on Thursday."

Mason cradles the planner to his chest. "You read it?"

"Tried to, anyway. All the green doodles and cramped handwriting made it a little difficult, to be honest.”

“Whatever. Thanks for returning this to me.” Mason turns to walk away.

Corey steps into his path. “How about you have a drink with me?”

Mason eyeballs Brett and Jackson hitting it off at the bar over Corey’s shoulder. “Thanks but I’m not going to be any fun tonight.”

“Um, right. Okay. Maybe I’ll see you on Thursday?” At Mason’s mildly panicked look, Corey laughs. “That was a joke. I’ll leave you to your night.” He walks away, leaving Mason with a clear view of the real-life manifestation of his most secret nightmare.

Liam comes up behind him. “Who was that and where can I get one?”

Mason just shakes his head.

He walks over to the couple. “Hey, Jacks! Jetlag must be getting to you. You wanna bounce?”

“Let’s go dancing!” Jackson says to Brett instead.

“I love dancing.” Brett turns to Mason. “Wanna come?”

“Oh, dancing really isn’t Mason's thing, right?” He gives Mason a pleading look.

“Right. You guys have fun.”

“Well, alright then.” Brett takes Jackson’s hand and leads him toward the exit. 

Jackson mouths  _ Thanks, Mase! Love you! _ as they walk away.

☙❧

Mason tosses and turns, waiting for Jackson to return to his apartment. 

Midnight rolls around and he loses four games of solitaire on his phone.

At one o’clock, he tries to distract himself by taking down his box of Michael Bryant articles and reading his favorites. 

When the clock strikes two, he gives up and starts to stress clean the kitchen.

Jackson walks in as he’s about to fill a bucket to hand scrub the floor. He’s got a dazzling smile on his face when he looks at Mason. “You’re awake?”

“Just some deep cleaning to harness my chi.”

“Oh my god, Mase. I just had the best night ever. That wasn’t weird for you, was it?”

“Why would it be weird? He’s my boss. Whatever.”

“Great! Because we’re having lunch tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Mason hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Or that Jackson will be his normal self-absorbed self and won’t notice.

He apparently doesn’t. “Tell me about Brett.”

“Oh, uh.” Jackson looks so eager, and he can’t just act like he knows nothing about Brett.  _ Shit. _ “Well, Satomi Ito, the company’s CEO is his godmother. She took him and his sister, Lori, in when their parents died in a car crash when they were kids. She’s been grooming him to take over the company when she retires. He can speak English, Spanish, Japanese, and he’s learning French. He’s a rock climber. Likes to hang off the side of cliffs by his fingertips. He’s paying for his niece's private school tuition so Lori can get her PhD. She’s going to be a pediatrician.” Mason joins Jackson on the couch. “He’s an amazing boss. Everyone loves him. He loves his dog, Balto. Got a special permit to have a wolfdog and everything. He loves his job and he wants to take over for Satomi, but he’d be in heaven if he could do it all outside.”

“He sounds so amazing.”

“Right.” Mason needs to make Brett a little less appealing to Jackson. “Um. He’s Buddhist.” Jackson is a staunch atheist. “He likes onion bagels and sometimes wears socks with sandals.”

“Well, it’s not like those are deal-breakers.”

“Deal? What deal? Did you-”

“Oh, come on, Mase.” Jackson leans back with a sly smile. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, riiight. I gotcha.” Mason lets out a nervous giggle.

“Well, I’m beat. Night, bro.” Jackson heads to his room.

_ Fuck. _

☙❧


	5. Chapter 5

Mason and Jackson walk into their parent's house. Jackson is immediately scooped into Mom's arms and hugged tightly and cooed over. Part of Mason is jealous because he's never greeted like that, but he hasn't been gone for six months and he visits for breakfast every Monday, so. Besides, the way Jackson melts against her makes Mason happy. 

When Mom releases Jackson to Dad, she hugs Mason and kisses his cheek instantly making Mason feel better. 

He sits at the kitchen table and listens to his parents dote all over Jackson. Eventually, Mom asks how long Jackson is staying. 

"Just a couple of weeks, right?" Mason says hopefully.

"Well, maybe longer. It depends on how a few things pan out." Does he mean Brett??

"Well, we'll certainly be happy to see you stay awhile Jacks," Dad says.

Jackson's phone goes off. He checks it. "Oh, I gotta take this." He mouthed  _ Brett _ to Mason before going into the next room.

Mason can hear him giggling. Fucking  _ giggling. _

"Already, huh?" Mom's face is amused.

"It's not… a serious thing." Mason shoves an apple in his mouth and takes a huge bite so he doesn't have to answer any more questions. 

☙❧

Mason sits in his office and can hear Jackson flirting with Brett through the open doors. Through the window between their offices, he can see Jackson perched on the corner of the desk, leaning into Brett's space.

Mason rolls his eyes and mocks Jackson's low flirty tone.

He looks through his planner and notices that Corey Bryant had written his name and number on every Friday in bold black sharpie. Seriously?

He picks up his phone.

☙❧

Corey walks with Theo along the sidewalk on their way to get lunch. He'd just told Theo about meeting up with Mason to return his planner. "He's going to call me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just have this feeling, is all."

Not thirty seconds later, his phone rings. "Boom." He shows the screen to Theo. Theo looks suitably impressed.

"Hello?" Corey answers.

"You ripped out a week of my planner. Are you insane?"

"I wanted to know if you could survive without your life mapped out. How's it going so far? I've gotta know."

"I'll manage."

"You sure? Your life is nuts. Do you do anything besides work and plan weddings?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Look, since you called, how about I make it up to you? How about a new datebook, or maybe just a date?"

"Sure," Mason says sarcastically, "I'll just pencil you in. Oh, wait! You already did. Every Friday for the rest of the year. Can you please go be creepy to someone else?"

"Love to, but can't. How about this, anytime you wanna hang out with someone who doesn't need to take you to a fitting or wine tasting, call me."

Corey can practically see Mason roll his eyes. 

"Sure thing." He hangs up.

Corey grins at his phone. He kinda likes this guy. He certainly enjoys annoying him.

☙❧

Mason suppresses the urge to throw his stapler through the window.

From behind him, he hears a "hey".

He turns around to see Brett's niece, Nora. "Hey, you!" He pulls her into a hug.

The thirteen-year-old is decked out in her football jersey and jeans. Her cleats are hanging over one shoulder and her gear bag is slung over the other. 

"There she is!" Brett comes up and hugs his niece. 

"Nora, this is Jackson. He's Mason's stepbrother. Jackson this is my niece, Nora."

"Nice to meet you, Nora? Supporting your boyfriend?" He nods at her jersey. 

Nora gives him a judgy teenage look.

Brett clears his throat. "Nora is the starting kicker on her team. Hey, Mason. We're gonna take Nora to her game? Wanna come?"

He'd gone with Brett to several of Nora's games. It was always fun to spend time with him outside the office. Now, Jackson will be there...

"Oh, uh, I gotta lot of work to do so I think I'll stay."

"No, no. Your boss is a jerk. Come with us or I'll fire you."

Maso laughs. "Alright, okay."

*

They drop Nora off at the locker room entrance and find a place to park. By the time they get their tickets and make it in, the teams are warming up on the field.

They get food and drinks from concessions and as they sit down, the clouds part and the sun shines down on them. 

Jackson raises his face to the sun. "Ah, the sun cannot long be hidden."

Brett whips his head toward him. "You know the Buddhist mantra?"

"What?" Mason says dumbly.

"I've recently started practicing Buddhism," Jackson tells Brett.

"Very recently," Mason snarks.

"That's incredible," Brett beams at Jackson. "I'm Buddhist. Not necessarily practicing, but his teachings and mantras truly do help every day."

"I understand perfectly," Jackson nods. "I'm still learning myself and it's been hard waking up before dawn to watch the sun rising in the east. Luckily, Mason's apartment has seven floors or I wouldn't be able to see."

"Wow, I didn't pin you for the early riser sort. I'll be honest."

Mason knows for a fact that Jackson doesn't function until at least eight am. But he keeps his mouth shut if only to see what other crap will spew from his step brother's mouth.

"I can see why you'd think that." He gestures to his silk shirt and chinos. "But like I said, it's all still new. I did used to get up early to go on hikes with my dog before she died, but I haven't really wanted to since she passed."

Jackson hates animals. And they only ever had cats because Mason's mom is allergic to dogs.

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Brett plays his hand on Jackson's knee. "Wait, did you say hiking?"

"Yeah, but like I said, I don't really do it anymore. I've done the indoor rock climbing thing, though, and I'm curious about doing it for real."

One measly rock climbing wall in gym class one time. Ten years ago.

Brett looks at Jackson in awe. "I  _ love _ rock climbing. Maybe I'll take you up a real cliff sometime."

Jackson neatly avoids Brett's offer. "Wow, we have more in common than I thought."

"Oh, yeah, me too." Mason takes a huge bite of his hot dog to help swallow his hysterical laughter. Jackson ignores his comment. 

He'd done this. He'd given Jackson the ammunition to shoot a fake ass cupid's arrow right into Brett's heart.  _ I'm such a dumbass. _

Brett sees someone he knows and excuses himself for a moment. 

"What are you doing?" Mason asks Jackson as soon as Brett is out of earshot. 

"What?"

"You're a freaking atheist. You hate dogs and waking up early and being outside."

"Not true. I like yachts and tanning and bazaars. I know it's not exactly the same, but-"

"You're only saying these things because you think Brett is attractive." Mason catches himself. "As some people have said."

"Look, I could like sunrises and rock climbing if I tried it. Maybe."

Before Mason can say anything else, Brett comes back. "Do you like football?" He asks Jackson. 

"Love it."

He thinks football is a joke. He played lacrosse. Which is something they actually do have in common. Mason will not be dumb enough to tell them. 


	6. Chapter 6

Mason's life has become a nightmare.

Jackson receives flowers. The tag says  _ Love, Brett.  _

Mason walks into Brett's office to see Jackson as his desktop background.

He walks into  _ his _ apartment to see Brett and Jackson making out on  _ his _ couch.

Jackson brings Brett over to Sunday breakfast with their parents.

When Mason is standing behind Tracy at her wedding, he looks over just in time to see Brett and Jackson mouth 'I love you' to each other before making out in the pews.

He sends a heartbroken look to Liam who looks back and sees what Mason sees. Immediately making a disgusted face. Mason is glad his friend agrees. 

A little over a month after the nightmare started, Brett asks for Mason's opinion on two ties. When he chooses, Brett asks him to tie it for him. 

"Thanks, Mason. You're much better at it than me."

"I do it for Liam all the time." Mason’s heart pounds in his chest. Fuck if doing this for Liam feels completely different. With Brett, it feels intimate and it really shouldn’t because he’s about to be going on a date with Jackson.

“Thanks, Mason. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye,” Mason says quietly.

He’s cleaning up Brett’s desk before heading out when he finds Brett’s wallet under some papers. He’s going to need that if he’s going to pay for the date. 

Mason looks up where Brett’s going to be on his calendar and grabs a cab to get there as soon as possible.

When he gets out of the cab, he realizes that this is the same place where Brett and Jackson had had their first real date after dancing until three in the morning. It had been a lunch date if Mason’s stupidly organized brain remembers correctly.

He walks through the doors and wonders where everyone is. When he walks around the corner to the private room he sees a huge banner saying  _ Will you marry me? _

What. The fucking. Fuck.

A string trio starts playing soft music, but Brett asks them to stop when he sees Mason. “Wait. It’s not him. It’s not him.”

“Oh, god.” Mason stumbles for words. “Shit. Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. You- you left your wallet on the desk so I came to bring it to you. I’m sorry to- I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I- thank you for bringing me my wallet. I’ll need that later.” Brett chuckles.

Before Mason can run away as fast as possible, Jackson walks around the corner.

“It’s him!” Brett waves at the trio and steps around Mason. “Jackson! Hi! Uhm,” he bends to one knee and pulls a small box out of his pocket, “Jackson, this last month with you has been the most amazing I’ve ever had. You burn me up and I couldn’t be happier about it. You take my breath away, so I guess I’ll I’ve got left to say is: Will you marry me?”

“Oh. Oh, my god, yes. Yes!” Jackson pulls Brett up to kiss him.

Mason slips out before he throws up or anyone remembers that he was even there.

☙❧

Mason gets totally shitfaced at Liam’s place. Liam, to his credit, is pissed on his behalf but keeps his mouth shut for once.

☙❧

The next day he joins the happy couple at their parent’s house as they break the news.

“Oh, Jacks!” Mom says, “Does this mean you’re staying in Beacon Hills.”

“Yes it does, Mom.”

“Oh, Brett Talbot, bless you to your very bones!” She leans down to give him a hug right where he’s sitting on the couch.

“Oh! We’ve got so much to do!”

“Well, mom, I was kinda hoping Mase would help me. You know, since he has all that experience helping other people get married.”

“You’re absolutely right, baby. Mason would probably be the better choice.” Mom beams at Mason.

“Oh, yeah! I’m a whiz at this stuff by now.” Mason plasters the biggest grin he can possibly manage on his face.

It’s the final straw for Mason.  _ How about this, anytime you wanna hang out with someone who doesn't need to take you to a fitting or wine tasting, call me. _

As soon as he’s free, he looks up the number written on every Friday of his planner. He pulls out his phone and calls Corey Bryant.

☙❧

“I’ll admit, I was surprised you called,” Corey says when Mason joins him at the bar they’d agreed to meet at. “You dodged me for weeks and now you’re here. Why?”

“My stepbrother is getting married.”

“Okay. Are you upset that it’s because he’s getting married before you?”

“No, no. Not like that.” Mason refuses to tell Corey, a virtual stranger, the real reason he’s freaking out. So, instead, he focuses on a tangent truth. “You don’t know Jackson. He wants me to take care of literally everything. I’m not just going to be his Best Man I’m going to have to take care of  _ everything. _ Mom offered to help but Jackson refused and Mom’s going to respect his wishes and-” Mason sighs deeply.

“So… say ‘no’.”

“What?”

“Tell him ‘no’. Tell him you need your mom’s help with stuff.”

Mason looks at him blankly.

“Seriously? Do you know how to say it?”

“Look, of course, I know how to say ‘no’ but I’m expected to do this so I can’t just say ‘ _ no’. _

“‘Kay, well, it looks like I’m not going to get you to do the right thing. So, for now, do you want to play some pool?”

Mason ignores the dig about the right thing and looks over at the pool table. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

☙❧


	7. Chapter 7

Mason is going over his first wedding checklist with Jackson. "I've talked to the florist and we're going to talk to the baker tomorrow."

"Awesome. So, heads up, I've asked Matt to be a groomsman." Jackson tells him.

"Ugh. Why?"

"I know you think he's a prick, but he's my only real cousin, you know?"

"Okay, what about Boyd then?"

"I'd love to, but he's so big, he'll throw off the aesthetic. I was hoping you'd ask your little angry friend."

"You mean Liam? My Liam?"

"Yeah, he's kinda short but he’s got great bone structure."

Mason sighs. "I'll ask him."

"Thanks, bro. Oh, hey! You know that writer guy you like so much? He called and asked if he could cover my wedding. How cool is that?”

“Wow. That's… amazing.” Mason can barely catch his breath, but at least he might finally be able to meet Michael Bryant.

“So, also, I don't need a venue anymore, by the way."

"You don't?" Mason blinks.

“Nope!” Jackson hands Mason his tablet.

Mason takes it and looks at the website for the park where their parents got married. “You got Galloway Park?” Mason has wanted to get married there since the day his parents got married there. He’d had no idea Jackson had wanted it, too.

“Yeah. I’m thinking in the gazebo just like Mom and Dad. Dad made an offhand comment about it and I realized that it would be perfect, you know? I called about an opening like seven times and on the seventh try, they finally had an opening before October. I guess the bride slept with the groom’s entire family or whatever, so the wedding got canceled. Mase, I’m getting married in three weeks!”

“Three weeks?”

“I know it’s short notice, but if anyone can pull it off, you can.”

Fuck.

☙❧

Mason meets Liam at the barbershop. 

He sits in Josh’s seat and asks for the full treatment. “Must’ve been some morning then, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

In the mirror, Mason can see Liam roll his eyes as Danny attempts to bring some style to Liam’s overgrown mane. “You’re planning your stepbrother’s wedding to the man you love. It’s sick, Mason.”

Danny and Josh both whistle lowly.

“To be fair, he doesn’t know how I feel about him. And he never will because he’s my boss and I shouldn't be in love with him anyway.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice.” As Josh lathers up his face and sets the straight razor to his throat, he’s tempted to ask the man to just go full Sweeny Todd on him and put him out of his misery. “You don’t have a choice either. Jackson wants you to be a groomsman.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

“C’mon, Li.”

“No. I’m refusing on principle. I can’t with him and how dare he even ask?”

“Please, Liam. Do it for me then. Don’t leave me alone in this. Please.”

“Ugh. Fine. But only for you.” Liam scowls at a long lock that falls on his chest and tries to peek into the mirror but Danny turns his chair so that he’s looking directly at Mason. “If he crosses me, I’m kicking his ass and then yours.”

“You’re the best and I love you.”

☙❧

Mason stands in a bakery, arguing with the owner and most renowned wedding cake baker in Beacon Hills. Mason knows Isaac personally from years of helping friends pick cakes.

“Three weeks is not long enough, Mason.”

“You are being dramatic, Isaac. You did the spectacular six-tiered beauty for the Parrish wedding. Not to mention the two amazing cakes you did for McCall’s and Stilinski’s double wedding. You and I both know you can do anything. So you’re going to do this cake in three weeks and it’s going to be beautiful. Thank you.”

Isaac grins at him. “Three weeks?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Mason turns to Jackson and Brett. “You’ve got a cake.”

The grooms-to-be grin at each other. Everyone turns when they hear clapping from the doorway.

Mason frowns at Corey. “What are you doing here?”

Corey walks to Jackson, holding out his hand. “Hi. I’m Michael Bryant.”

“What?” Mason asks dumbly.

“Oh! Good! I wasn’t sure it was legit until just now, to be honest.” Jackson turns toward Brett to introduce him. “This is my fiance, Brett.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Corey -Michael?- shakes Brett’s hand. “And congratulations.”

Mason glares at him. Corey/Michael makes a face back at him.

“Oh! This is my stepbrother and Best Man, Mason. He’s obsessed with your stories. I found a folder full of them in his closet.” Jackson seems to notice the horrified look on Mason’s face. “Not his bedroom closet or anything creepy like that.”

Mason tries to remember that he wouldn’t make it in prison. The corner of Corey’s mouth quirks when he looks at him.

“You said your name was Corey,” Mason says flatly.

“Michael is my middle name. I use it in the paper to avoid getting stalked by crazy brides.” He turns to Jackson. “So, how’d you meet Brett?”

“You’re a dick,” Mason says to Corey.

“Mase!” Jackson stares incredulously at him.

“What? Sorry. He- he said his name was Corey. I’m just a lot confused and a little pissed.”

“Are you saying that you know each other?”

“You could say we both works weddings so..,” Corey answers.

Mason sighs. “Jacks, can you give us one second? We’re going to go over there and… talk about you.”

He grabs Corey’s arm and pulls him away. Jackson takes the opportunity to bug Isaac. 

“You lied to me,” he accuses.

“Nope. I might not have told you what I wrote, but I did tell you that I’m a writer and that my name is Corey. My name  _ is _ Corey and I  _ am _ a writer.”

“But… you write such beautiful words. Do you believe in marriage and pretend to be a cynic, or are you a cynic who writes romantic crap for saps like me?”

“Uh, the latter. Definitely the crap.”

“Son of a bitch. I feel like I just found out my favorite love song was written about a sandwich.”

Mason turns away and Jackson steals Corey back.

This is Mason’s life now. He should absolutely not be surprised. Never meet your heroes, kids.

With the cake situation taken care of, Mason takes his leave. They can text him if anything important comes up.

☙❧


	8. Chapter 8

He’d just put a lasagna in the oven when he hears a knock at the door. When he opens the peephole, he sees Corey  _ Michael _ Bryant standing on his doormat.

“What? What do you want?”   
  


“I’ve gotta talk to all the family members for the article.”

Mason sighs heavily and opens the door.

Corey’s smile is all sunshine and Mason hates him. “May I come in?”

“So you can lie some more?” Mason leaves the door open and walks back to the kitchen.

“I never lied. You gotta stop saying that.”

“Whatever.”

Corey pulls out a recorder and says into it, “The Best Man is peculiar and somewhat delusional.”

Mason rolls his eyes. 

“How do you feel about Jackson and Brett’s whirlwind romance?”

“Couldn’t be happier. He’s my stepbrother and I love him as if he were my real brother.”

Corey opens his mouth to ask another question when he looks to his left. “...what are those.”

Shit. He’d left the closet door open after taking the Michael Bryant folder out and dumping it in the garbage disposal.

“Nothing,” he answers.

“Are those..?”

“No.”

Corey starts to walk toward the closet. Mason rushes to stop him. He manages to block his way, but Corey grabs the door before he can close it.

“Are these all groomsmen tuxes.”

“This is none of your business.”

“You kept them all? Why? There’s a literal closet full.”

“I have a lot of friends and I wanted to keep them.”

“That makes so much sense since they’re all so different.”

“They are!”

“Sure, definitely that… god, is that  _ really _ orange plaid?”

“Yes. And I’ll have you know it looks amazing with my skin tone.”

“No way.”

“I’ll prove it.” Mason stomps into his bedroom.

When he reemerges, he looks pointedly at Corey. “See, I look like a fucking snack.”

Corey chuckles and takes a picture. “Yes. The giant orange creamsicle of my dreams. A dreamsicle, if you will.”

Mason snorts and looks down. “Alright, fine. But you should’ve seen the guy stuck with the lime green plaid.”

Corey looks properly horrified.

“Wanna see a cool one?” He walks over to the closet and pulls out a suit that looks like it’s from the eighteenth century. “Pride and Prejudice theme.”

When he walks out in the with the leather boots and tight breeches, Corey lets out a low whistle. “Darcy would be jealous.” He takes another picture.

Mason feels his cheeks warm.

“Okay, I gotta know,” Corey says, turning back to the closet. “At first I thought I was seeing things, but…” He holds up a dress.

Mason shrugs. “Women wore suits, men wore dresses.”

“You poor thing.”

Mason lays on his best drag queen attitude. “Honey, I  _ rocked _ this dress.” He snaps his fingers.

Corey just points toward the bedroom door.

When Mason stomps out in the dress, Corey swallows at the sight. "Okay, well damn."

Mason can't help but smirk at his reaction. The dress is cream colored with a black sash. The sweetheart neckline gives the illusion that he has the goods to hold up the strapless dress rather than the severely tailored bodice. The tulle skirt stops just above his knees and shows off just how fantastic his fishnet-clad calves look in black pumps. The ensemble is completed with black lace fingerless gloves and a silk black top hat. He's even dusted on some silver eyeshadow for effect.

Corey's reaction makes the struggle of putting the damn dress on worth it. Women and other frequent dress wearers do  _ not  _ get enough credit.

Corey takes a photo of Mason with his best Tyra Banks pose, then pulls out an outfit with a sword attached.

"Is this..?"

"Yep. Pirates." Mason takes the hanger and goes to his room to show him. 

Two hours later, Mason sits across from Corey in his living room, drinking a beer, still wearing a full-blown tuxedo. Complete with a silk square in his pocket and "diamond" cufflinks.

Corey flips through the photos he'd taken. "Twenty-seven suits and tuxes. Well, twenty-six and one phenomenal dress." He chuckles. “Why, though? Why keep all of them. Like, that tux I get. And some of the better cut suits that you can put with more subdued shirts and vests. But the theme ones? That’s a big closet and you’ve dedicated it to clothes you’ll never wear again.”

“You might not understand, but I’ve had some amazing times in these suits.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand. At all.”

“How about this, then. I don’t care if someone wants to make me wear a ridiculous suit or a pirate costume or a dress. It’s their day, not mine.”

“Bless you, then, Hewitt.”

“If supporting someone on their day means hand-tying ribbons on two hundred tiny boxes, or helping a groom memorize Star Wars quotes to put in his vows, then I’ll do it.”

“What about you, though? You do all these things for others, what about you and your needs.”

“Someday, eventually, it’ll be my day and all of those people will be there to help me.”

Mason looks over to see Corey lowering his phone after taking another picture. Why is he even here, still? How could Mason have gotten so caught up in this?

“You wouldn’t understand. How could you?” Mason sighs and stands up. “Your questions about Jackson and Brett are going to have to wait until later. I’d like you to leave now.”

A flurry of emotions travel across Corey’s face. “Yeah, okay. Um, when is best for you?”

“I’m going to make the registry tomorrow. Meet me there and I’ll answer whatever questions you have about  _ them.” _

“Alright. I’ll see myself out. Uh, bye.”

“Goodnight.”

☙❧


	9. Chapter 9

Corey got a time from Mason to meet him in the afternoon, so he heads to the office to get some work done in the morning. He’s looking over his notes for Jackson’s wedding and mentally banging his head against the desk when Lydia pops in.

“Bryant, what do you have for the groomsman story?”

“Oh, uh. Just a really rough draft. It’s not finished.”

“Email what you’ve got to me.”

Before he can argue further, she strides away.

_Well, damn._

☙❧

Corey meets Mason outside of store number three on Jackson’s registry list. 

“Jackson really couldn’t do this himself?” Corey asks as Mason scans items on the list.

“He’s busy. It’s a really short engagement. I’m happy to help.” Mason answers diplomatically if a bit rushed.

“Why two roasting pans, exactly?”

“This is the pan that Jackson will serve Mom’s roast in on their first family gathering.”

“Jackson cooks?” Corey’s eyebrows raise.

“Okay, well, I’ll cook it but Jacks will be there… with Brett. And that’s what matters.”

"Right." Corey stops in front of an overstuffed armchair. "And this is the sheep shaped ottoman where Brett will rest his weary feet after a long day of work."

"You're a jackass," Mason tells him, but he can't quite suppress his amused smile. Corey just grins. "Look, it's not just stuff. They're things that make up a life together."

"Oh, no. No. This is the _crap_ that the 70-billion-dollar wedding industry tells we need to have to be happy."

"I think I'm starting to get it, _Michael."_

"Get what, exactly?"

"You. With all your numbers and statistics. All of it is a cover for your secret--whatever it is. Parents divorce? Haven't found the right person? Afraid of dying alone?"

"Hmm. And I think I'm starting to get that you love weddings so much because you'd rather focus on other people's happiness than your own."

"You're so right. I love being lonely and single, and going to weddings is the perfect place to forget about all of that!"

"I think you want a wedding. Not a marriage, a wedding."

"What is your problem? Did you have your own fancy wedding and your partner left you or something?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner."

"Wait, what?" Masons stomach drops.

"With roommate from college so you get bonus points." Corey's tone is light but the subject does suck. 

"Shit, Corey. I'm sorry. It was just a guess."

"And it was right."

Mason doesn't know how to deal with this. More than anything, he wants to believe in happily ever after. And while he knows that's almost never the case, having a walking, talking example in front of him makes the truth tangible and real and unavoidable. 

He has no idea what to say to comfort, so instead, he asks, "Wanna find the ugliest stuff in the store and register Jackson for it?" 

Corey pauses then holds up his scanner, grinning. "Let's do this."

☙❧

When Corey makes it back to the office, he stops by Lydia's room. When he catches her attention, she turns toward him. 

"Wow."

_Shit._ "I told you it wasn't ready."

"No, I mean: 'Wow, it's pretty good.' You surprised me. It's smart, biting, funny. The readers will love it. We're running it. Front page, Sunday."

Corey's heart picks up even as he sits in one of the chairs in front of her desk. It's all he's ever wanted to hear but-

"Hello. This is the part where you thank me profusely." Lydia raises her eyebrows. 

"Oh, yeah, no. I just- I want to get it perfect and I don't quite think it's there yet. So can you just hold it for a week?"

"You've been begging for months and now you want me to hold it so you can change some punctuation?"

"Now that I've actually talked to the guy, he's more than just a perpetual groomsman. There's- there's so much more to him than that."

Lydia huffs. "I'd accuse you of having a crush if I didn't know you any better."

_Is that it? No. No._ "You're hilarious. Look, I know I can do better."

"It's great the way it is."

"Please, just give me a week. One week."

Lydia sighs. "Fine. Go away."

Corey makes it back to his desk before he says in relief. If Mason saw the article as its written now… he'd be devastated. And Corey actually _cares._

When he'd first found the planner, Corey thought Mason was some kind of nut job. But now he's gotten to know the guy and… Mason is the most caring and selfless person he's ever met and Corey would be a fool to hurt him. 

He's _got_ to fix the story. And tell Mason about it. 

☙❧


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some mild smut toward the end. If that's not your jam, just skip the parts between the asterisks (**).

On Saturday, Mason meets Brett at the caterer to try and decide for a meal plan. 

"Thanks for coming to help," Brett smiles at him as he sits. 

"Not a problem. I’m happy to help."

The chef brings them the dish Jackson had picked out. Add they eat, Mason can't help but think about how this is the first time he's been alone with Brett in months. He’s missed the easy way they talk. 

They talk about the food and agree that maybe convincing Jackson to choose a different side would really make it perfect. They talk about the linens that Jackson just has to have.

Eventually, they get to Jackson himself. 

"You know what I love about him?" Brett asks. "There's no bullshit. He's not afraid to be himself."

Mason practically bites his tongue off to keep his shit together.

"I'm happy for you, Brett. I'm glad you found what you're looking for."

Brett beams at him. "So, you've been to a ton of these things, right? What's your favorite part?"

"Easy question. When everyone stops and looks back to see the person walking down the aisle, that's when I look at the one waiting by the alter. Their face says it all. Absolute love and adoration."

"So, I take it you'd want the grand entrance so you can see your groom at the altar. And I have full permission to look at him?"

"Absolutely. Make sure the dude's still standing there." 

Brett laughs and Mason giggles. 

"You don't have anything to worry about," Brett tells him. "Some guy would be lucky to have you." 

Mason's cheeks warm under the compliments being showered on him. 

Brett looks over and his face shifts from amused to puzzled. "Bryant?"

Mason jerks his head up to see Corey turning to face them. 

Corey and Brett greet each other but Mason asks, "What are you doing here?"

Corey looks at their empty plates. “Picking out the wedding meal? Where’s Jackson?”

“He’s… getting a manicure.” Corey gives Mason a sarcastic look that would, under different circumstances, probably make him smile. But not right now. “I’m just helping out.”

“Of course.” Mason can practically feel Corey’s condescension.

“We’re heading up to Westview to pick up some linens.” He gestures between himself and Brett.

“Yeah, we should head out,” Brett says. “Jackson and I have dinner with Satomi, Lori, and Nora.”

Corey points at Mason. “Oh, well, I could just go with you then, save Brett some time.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m absolutely sure I can get you back on time, Brett.”

“I really don’t mind,” Corey says. “Besides, I’ve still got a few questions to ask for the article.”

“I’d be happy to answer them by phone or email.”

Brett leans toward Corey. “If you really don’t mind, it’d be a great help.”

“I don’t mind one bit.” Corey’s grin is all sunshine. Mason hates him.

☙❧

Corey held it in as long as he could. He bit his tongue and only asked article-relevant questions on the way to Westview. He’s made all the right noises as Mason discussed why Jackson wanted  _ exactly _ those super expensive linens. But when the sky opened up and started pouring he couldn’t take it anymore and finally lets loose his discovery of the day. 

“I finally,  _ finally  _ figured it out.”

“What?” Mason snaps. He’d been in a bitchy mood since he’d laid eyes on Corey that afternoon.

Corey knows he’s not about to make it better. He’d never thought of himself as much of an instigator, but he is a journalist. His curiosity gets the better of him and if poking the bear means getting the truth, then give him a stick.

“I get why you called me that night. I get why you’re so freaking stressed out. I get why you’re about ten seconds from blowing your brains out at any given moment. It was like a light bulb the second I saw you making heart eyes at Brett across the table. You’re so damn upset because you’re planning your spoiled step brother's wedding to the dude you’re in love with.”

“That is absolutely not true.” Mason squeezes the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn pale.

“Please.” Corey rolls his eyes. “And now you can’t tell him how you feel because you’re Good-Old-Mason who-”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mason spared him a glance. “Brett’s my boss. Jackson’s my brother. I’m ecstatic to be planning their wedding! Like I have been for every wedding I've been a part of.”

Corey can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like, at all.

Mason soldiers on. “You can’t understand it because you’re  _ so _ cynical and- and  _ mean. _ But that’s your problem, buddy, not mine.”

“I get it. You’re pissed at me because I ruined what was probably the last afternoon you’d ever get to pine over someone you’ll never have.”

“Would you just fucking stop!”

Corey knows he hit a nerve and damn if he doesn’t feel bad about it. He’s clearly pushed too far, but what’s not so clear is why he wanted to push so much in the first place.

He sighs. “Yeah, okay. Why don’t you just… focus on the road.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“That’s not what I was trying to-”

“Just shut up!”

No sooner than Mason yelled, a large animal appears in front of the car. Mason curses and tries to swerve around it. The men scream as the car hydroplanes off the road and into the ditch, barely missing a tree.

Their hearts are pounding and their breathing is heavy. Mason grips the wheel and Corey’s hands are pressed into the dash.

Mason heaves a long breath and says, “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

He takes another steadying breath and presses his foot to the gas. The car doesn’t move. They can hear the tires spinning but nothing is happening. He presses harder. Nothing. “Okay, okay. Let’s try reverse,” he mutters to himself.

Corey stays silent as he switches gears and tries again. They’re not going anywhere. Fuck.

Corey checks his phone. No signal. He sighs and shows it to Mason. Mason makes a panicked sound and digs out his own phone. Corey guesses that he has no signal either when he lays his head on the steering wheel.

“So-” Corey tries.

“What did I say about talking?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. This isn’t his fault. That deer or dog or whatever should not have been there.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” 

Corey gives him a pointed look.

“Oh my god. Speak.”

“Yes, Master,” Corey mocks. Mason rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure I saw the sign for Rose Springs. We should be only about a mile from civilization.”

Mason sighs. “Fine.” He opens his door.

“Woah, what are you-”

“We need a tow. We have no service. I’m not spending another moment in a small enclosed space with you if I can help it. There will be a dry place with a phone somewhere a mile thataway. I’m going. Please, I beg you, feel free to stay here.” Mason climbs out and slams the door.

Mason doesn’t make it past the front end of the car before Corey scrambles out of his side. He sighs heavily as Corey matches steps with him. To his credit, Corey doesn’t keep trying to talk to him. They forge ahead with only the sound of the pouring rain accompanying them.

As his clothes get drenched and soak him to the bone, Corey reflects on what he’d said in the car. While everything he’d said was all true, he’s honest enough with himself to admit that he had no right to say any of those things. As the writer covering  _ Jackson’s _ wedding, he has no business asking about an irrelevant observation. 

So why had he? Why did he go out of his way to stir up shit that Mason is clearly already torn up about? He glances over at Mason. The rain runs down his entire face, but Corey would bet his rent money that the other man was using it to camouflage tears. The wrenching in Corey’s gut answers his questions.

He recalls the sight of Mason’s gorgeous smile as he leaned over the table toward Brett. His eyes were bright and his laugh was too loud. Something in Corey had twisted at seeing him respond like that to another man. Brett had noticed him before he’d gotten the chance to analyze it, but now he knows what it was.  _ I’m fucking jealous. _

Lydia was right. He’s actually crushing on Mason.  _ Ugh. What am I, a teenager? _ He hates to admit it, but he really does  _ like _ Mason. 

He thinks about the afternoon he’s spent at Mason’s apartment, watching him walk out of his bedroom with a new suit on, smiling at Corey and explaining something that had happened while he was wearing it the first time. He remembers thinking Mason was beautiful. He somehow really had managed to look like a snack in that awful orange monstrosity, and the dress had been stunning on him, but the joy in his eyes as he tried on each suit and relived memories that Corey could never know had made Corey want to stay and ask about every one of them anyway.

He’d been so full of joy and now… Corey looks over at Mason again. Mason looks downright miserable and it’s all his fault.

“Hey, Mason?”

Mason huffs out a sigh. “What?”

“Look, I’m- I’m sorry for being such a dick. None of that is any of my business and I had no right to say anything about it. Being an asshole isn’t much of an excuse, but when I find something --I dunno, intriguing?-- I tend to dig my teeth in without thinking about how much it’ll hurt other people.”

“Right,” Mason mutters. “You should work on that.”

They reach the top of a hill and see a small dive bar at the bottom. 

“Oh, thank god,” Mason sighs and starts marching toward the small building.

Corey sighs and follows.

☙❧

Mason stomps through the surprisingly full dirt lot and through the front entrance of the bar. The music through the jukebox is loud and he hopes AAA will be able to hear his request over the noise. He ignores Corey as the other man beelines for the bar. He’s not ready to forgive the bastard for dragging all of his shit out and laying it bare.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and sees he still has no service. Damnit. He looks around and sees that there is a payphone in the back corner.  _ Holy shit, a relic. _ As long as it works, he is not going to complain. As he approaches the little booth he sees a hand written sign that says,  _ Sorry. No public phone.  _ Of fucking course.

Well, then. Since it seems he has nothing better to do, he might as well drink. He wanders to the bar and plops down next to Corey. “No public phone. We’re stuck here for a while.”

“Joy.” Corey gets the bartender’s attention, handing him his debit card for a tab. “Whatever he’s having, as well.” He gestures toward Mason who tells the bartender his drink order.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Mason tells him.

“I feel like I kind of do. We ended up in the ditch because I distracted you and I was being a prick.”

“True enough. Thanks.”

Mason hadn't planned on more than one or two drinks but after his second rum and Coke he orders tequila shots for them.

"Really?" Corey asks.

Mason shrugs. "Might as well make the most of this shitty night since we're here."

"You're absolutely right," Corey licks the back of his hand and sends Mason one of his sunshine grins. Mason… doesn’t hate it.

He passes Corey the salt to prevent himself from tracking his mouth. He prepares his own salt line, then grabs his first shot. "Fucking cheers." He taps his little glass against Corey's before licking off the salt, downing his shot, and popping the lime wedge into his mouth.

Corey's pretty brown eyes sparkle at him over his own lime wedge, so full of mischief and mirth that Mason finally starts to thaw towards him. Or maybe it's the alcohol. Whatever.

"March 5th, three years ago," Mason says abruptly.

Corey furrows his brow in confusion. "Do what?"

"The Argent wedding! You wrote a story that was so beautiful and heartbreaking it literally made me cry."

"I have no memory of it."

"How can you not remember it!?"

"I don't remember."

"How? It was the anniversary of the groom's daughter's death. The best man was her highschool sweetheart and the bride's son. You can't fake emotion like that!"

"Sure you can. A good writer can."

Mason rolls his eyes. "You're not that good."

Corey sends him a disbelieving look. Mason just licks the back of his hand and grabs the salt.

After the third shot, Mason plugs his lime remains in the empty shot glass and says solemnly, "You've got to like  _ something  _ about weddings."

Corey takes a swig of his beer, then gestures toward Mason with it. "Open bar."

"No."

Corey snorts. "Fine. So when the bride, well usually its a bride, you know what I mean. The person walking down the aisle. When they make their grand entrance and everyone turns to look at them--that's when I look at the one already standing at the altar. Because while I think they're making the biggest mistake of their lives, they always look stupid happy and in love."

Mason's jaw drops as he processes Corey's words.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What the fuck?"

"What?!"

"That's  _ my _ favorite part!" Mason takes a pull from his own beer. "We actually have something in common."

"I mean, that was bound to happen at some point."

"Whatever. I know your secret now, so you can just admit you're a marshmallow that pretends to be a broody cynic to look all mysterious and sexy."

Corey's head perks up. "What was that last one?"

"Hmm?"

"You said sexy. You think I'm sexy."

"No. I think  _ you _ think you're sexy."

Corey is grinning at him and Mason is loathe to admit that maybe he's right. But he's not going to admit it.

Suddenly, a rhythmic beat pumps through the speakers that sends nostalgia and a strong urge to  _ move _ rushing through him. "Oh, my god, I haven't heard this song in forever!"

"Right? I loved this stupid song in high school." Corey moves his shoulders to the beat _. "Mom mom mom mom." _

Mason laughs. "Are you saying 'mom'?"

"What? It's what he says."

"Sure." Mason says agreeably but doesn't argue in favor of singing the first verse.  _ "I wanna hold them like they do in Texas me." _

"Wait, what?"

Mason waves away his interruption. " _ Hold it let them fold it baby stay with me." _

"It can't be that long since you've heard the song. Those aren't even the words!"

"Yes they are, shut up."

Corey laughs. "No. You're screwing them up to bad!"

"Fine. If you think you can do better." Mason gestures a go ahead.

_ "Can't read my, can't read my, no, he can't read my poker face. She's gonna hurt somebody." _

"Nooo!" Mason breaks down in giggles.

Corey just shrugs, grinning as he continues to sing loudly.

_ Fuck it.  _ Mason joins him as they both sing the words they think are right. When the song is over, they realize someone must have decided to take a trip down memory lane via Gaga with the jukebox because Bad Romance plays next, making them cheer.

When Just Dance plays, they end up on the bar top trying to recreate moves they'd danced in high school while a crowd of drunk millennials cheer them on from the floor.

As the song winds down, Corey hops off the bar and turns to help Mason climb down. They both stumble when Mason drunkenly lands on his feet. 

Corey helps him keep steady then stares determinedly into Mason's eyes like he's trying to make a decision. Finally, he says, "I cried like a baby at the Argent wedding."

_ Holy shit. _ Mason takes a moment to process the confession. Then, before he can change his mind, he grabs Corey's neck and brings his mouth to his own.

Corey wraps his arms around Mason's ribs as a few drunk girls from the dispersing crowd cheer them on. Mason pulls back. "Let's go...not here."

"Back to the car?"

"Yeah." Mason grabs Corey's hand and leads him out into the rain.

It takes for-fucking-ever to get back to the car, but when they do get there, Corey pushes Mason back against the car and ravishes his mouth under the pouring rain like they're in some kind of romcom and Mason is living for it.

**

When they pull back to breathe, Mason grips the handle to the back door, opening it and shoving Corey in that direction. "In! Now!"

"Yes, sir." Corey grins and crawls into the backseat.

Mason sends up a thanks to the universe for his slim build as he follows Corey in and they barely fit together. He can only imagine how uncomfortable it'd be if either of them were any bigger. As it is, he bonks his head on the ceiling as he pulls himself onto Corey's lap.

They chuckle, but the laughing stops as Mason lowers his mouth back down to Corey's. He moans as Corey brings his hands to his hips, sliding them under the hem of Mason's shirt. 

His hands are warm. Mason makes an encouraging noise hoping Corey will understand and pull his chilly shirt off. He does. Mason peels Corey's shirt off as well, fingers brushing over firm muscle that he wishes he could see.

The car is so dark, but he maps out Corey's features with his hands, imagining heat melting the chocolate brown of his eyes. He wants to see the warm flush he can feel darken the panes of his chest. But the darkness allows him to feel Corey's pounding heartbeat and hear every hitch in his breath.

Mason sighs as Corey tugs open his pants and pulls him out, his hot hand wrapping around his length. He writhes in Corey's lap as the other man works him over.

Unable to be completely selfish, Mason reaches down to undo Corey's pants and sighs again at how thick he is. He fleetingly wishes they'd been more prepared but he's willing to work with what they've got. Corey bites off a groan as Mason twists his wrist on the upstroke.

He bats Mason's hand away and grips them both in one hand, they both moan at their combined slickness makes the slide easier. Mason shifts his hips in time to Corey's strokes.

Corey cusrses softly. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm not going to last long."

Mason wants to sob at the endearment. "Me, neither."

He leans down and presses his lips to Corey's and Corey uses his free hand to grip the back of his neck and hold him in place, deepening the kiss. He moans into Mason's mouth and spills over his fist, triggering Mason's own release.

Mason collapses over Corey. Draping himself over his chest and shoulders. Their breathing heavy as he presses a kiss to Corey's jaw. Corey hums and returns the kiss to his shoulder.

**

After a few moments, Corey shifts beneath Mason. "Would you happen to have something to…" Mason's eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see Corey's waving hand. "I'd usually use a shirt or something but I've kinda gotta put that back on."

"Oh. Yeah, hang on." Mason scrambles off his lap and turns to dig into the center console between the front seats, making a triumphant noise when he finds what he's looking for. He hands the package over to Corey. "Here."

"Are these baby wipes?" Corey asks, pulling out a few damp cloths.

"Yep. Remarkably handy for more than just diaper changing." Mason grabs a few of his own to clean himself off before tucking himself back in his underwear. He tosses the wipes into the floorboard, making a mental note to clean them up at the earliest opportunity. 

He looks out the window and sees that the rain has stopped. "Awesome." He climbs out of the car, pulling his keys out of his pocket to unlock the trunk. He pulls out two blankets then slams it shut.

Opening the passenger door he passes one back to Corey who thanks him. Before he climbs back into the car, he peels his damp jeans off his legs.

"Whatcha doin'?" Corey asks.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to try to sleep in wet jeans. And as much as I'd love to cuddle in the back with you, that seat is not nearly big enough."

"Very sensible," Corey nods gravely.

Mason snorts. "You've met me, right? I literally had  _ two  _ blankets in my trunk."

Corey chuckles and maneuvers to shuck his own jeans. Mason lays his over the dash; Corey's over the driver's seat. Their shirts are draped over the steering wheel and the back seat.

Mason turns on the car and cranks up the heat. He checks the gas gauge and thanks past Mason for insisting on getting gas as soon as they'd entered Westview, unable to resist the almost twenty-cent cheaper per gallon prices outside of the city. He's reasonably sure they won't burn it all if he leaves the car running while they catch a few hours of sleep. 

Rolling himself up in his blanket, he peeks behind his seat to see Corey smiling at him, cocooned in his own blanket. "'Night."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

☙❧


End file.
